Mirror is cloudy.
I think it has taken me about seven long weekends to finish this.
Never did it cross my mind that it would turn out to be such a grueling task, and at times it felt like I was reading a thick history textbook, for my mind wandered ocassionally and no actual content actually lodged successfully into my brain.
Heck, there is only so much of another threat of bottom pinching one can take.
Today, I am relieved that I have finally turned to the last page of this book.
You have no idea how wonderful it is, to be able to stop reading pages upon pages containing labourious and elaborate visuals of people stoically inflicting pain on others, women straightening their skirts for the umpteenth time, men thinking of nothing but bottoms and bosoms…
Then there is the incessant bitching and bickering that seem to plague each and everyone on that realm. Do they not get tired arguing with each other?
I was practically panting in a race of my own, trying to keep track with the many characters that suddenly spring up like mushrooms after the rain – and just as abruptly, they disappeared, forever banished to the corners of the ‘Characters with Names that Utter Only One Line But Gone the Next Because Author Has No Further Use For Them’.
Thanks, I am very confused.
All that fluff could have been condensed and reduced into a book half of its current size. I mean, I have never felt so tired and drained just trying to read a book.
Then again, I probably should also have added that this is the first and only book that I have, to this seemingly-never-ending series. And no, this is not meant to be a stand-alone book. Its wheel grinds to a halt now – for me at least, that is.
Ah, Fitz, Drizzt – how I have missed you both! I need the both of you, and now. I simply have to rid of the unnecessary trauma I had received at the hands of Robert Jordan.